


Inquisition Perks

by MarvelMaven



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Angst, Birth Control, Canon Universe, Crushes, Cunnilingus, Exhibitionism, F/M, Flirting, Fluff, Headcanon, Masturbation, Pining, Shameless Smut, Smut, Solas Being Solas, Woman on Top, pregnancy mention
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-24
Updated: 2018-09-05
Packaged: 2019-02-06 09:47:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 13,474
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12814917
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MarvelMaven/pseuds/MarvelMaven
Summary: A smattering one shots based on prompts of Inquisition Perks titles in game for Solas/Lavellan.   Some chapters may follow in a chronological series and others might be random. Smut, Fluff, Angst, all the colours of the Solavellan hell rainbow.





	1. Nobility Knowledge

**Author's Note:**

> Translations are very loose and scrounged from wiki entries, if I have something off please let me know!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lavellan is learning a lot of new skills to deal with her new position. Dancing is one she is not so eager to embrace, until Solas steps in.

His cabin was always the first place she would run to after waking and readying herself for the day. Not everyone here spoke to her the way he did; the way he answered her questions and gave his opinion easily but never with malice, even when he disagreed with her. He had cared for her when she was injured and had defended her when she needed a friend. There was something comfortable in the knowledge that there was another elf behind her, even if he wasn't really one her people. 

Cassandra had warmed to her since they began closing the rifts and traveling together. Josephine was always polite and diplomatic to her, maybe there could be a friendship there in the future. The commander was a kind man, she could see that, but when not discussing operations in the war room he was always a bit awkward towards her, maybe her being an elf bothered him? He gave solid, if not biased, advice and that was all she could ask any of them. Leliana was definitely the most open minded of them all, but also the most ruthless. She was rather inspiring. Varric was great for a laugh or a story to free her mind from the looming task ahead of her, but she wasn't sure he wanted to be her shoulder to cry on. The world had grown so much in the weeks she had been at Haven, and she was still finding a way to fit into it. Though Solas was a very different sort from her, there was something familiar in him that eased her mind and grounded her. She felt her body relax and refocus simply at the sound of his voice.

The Dalish strived to preserve the culture of the Elven people and the Keeper of clan Lavellan had instilled in her a sense of history, still she had always wanted more beyond even the elders knowledge. Solas fed that hunger in her, he told her stories of far flung places and ancient times, legends she had heard as whispers but never as full and rich as the way he described them. She wasn't blessed with magic and had never envied those with it, but when he spoke to her about the experiences magic had given him, she wanted nothing more than to share in them.

She stood now outside his door, the smile on her face, fist lifted to knock.

"Herald, a moment?"

She turned to see Josephine, with her writing board and quill.

"Of course. Though I do wish you would just call me Maeve."

"Yes, I'm sorry. I know how you feel about the title."

It wasn't that she hated it, it was just a bit of an outlandish idea really, that she could somehow be chosen by some higher being. It made her uncomfortable to think of misleading anyone or to so easily disregard her own customs. 

The Antivan woman gestured for the elf to follow her, and soon they were seated across a rather large desk from each other as papers were shuffled about to clear the space for new document.

"I understand you have not spent any time at court and I wanted to propose some tutoring, just between you and I, before invitations begin piling up, and nobles begin invading our ranks. You have made quite an impression and we need all the allies we can get. I'm sure you are perfectly capable of handling yourself on a battlefield but this is a different set of tactics than you are used to, I suspect."

 

At this the Ambassador folded her hands neatly in front of her on the smooth wooden surface and smiled at the elf.

This was unexpected. There were duties beyond closing rifts and protecting the people? This moniker certainly was causing her more headaches than she had anticipated. Nobles? Invitations? To what exactly?

"What did you have in mind?" She asked tentatively.

"The usual: proper addresses, a bit of background on the way noble houses work, a little history, and of course; dancing."

Maeve sat nodding ever so slightly with her brows knit and her lower lip between her teeth.

"I can see this troubles you." The Antivan accent breaking the elf's silence.

"Um, no, I mean yes. But, not the way you think. I appreciate the offer and the knowledge would be useful for sure, but dancing is really not something I had ever expected to be in the job description."

"Maybe we will leave the dancing for last?" Josephine said with a gentle smile that reached the reassuring look in her eyes. "Maybe you will change your mind."

"Maybe." Maeve replied with what she hoped sounded like she had some shred of confidence.

"I won't keep you any longer. We can begin your lessons tomorrow then."

*******

The conversation momentarily forgotten, she remembered what she had been doing and felt even more desperate to speak to Solas now. She took the stairs two at a time on her way out of the Chantry yard and down to the cabins. Her smile returned as she saw him standing outside his door, looking at the sky.

"Lethallan." He said seeing her from the corner of his eye. 

"Solas," She replied, standing rather closely beside him and following his eye line to the swirling green sky above. That day was coming, she thought to herself, when she would need to deal with that. "Do you have some time?"

"Anything in particular you wish to talk about?" His attention now fully on her.

"Dancing. The fancy kind."

"That seems a topic best covered by our Ambassador." 

"You have given me good council before, and I respect your opinion." 

"I see, of course, though I'm not sure what I can say on the subject."

Maeve went on to explain Josephine's proposal and her apprehension about the lessons. "I have no talent for dancing, I know it will be a failure and likely to frustrate me to no end."

"I find it hard to believe you could not master the skill. You have such a natural grace, and movement."

"You think I'm graceful?"

He flustered slightly. There was a subtle touch of pink on his cheeks that another might have attributed to the chilly mountain air, but the Dalish hunter caught it, and it quickened her heartbeat.

"I only meant, the way you move with your weapons, so self assured and each step carefully placed, you should be able to apply that to dancing as well."

She hadn't really considered Solas as having an attraction to her, he was always so reserved and focused. She had tried to flirt with him, a casual smile in his direction, a toss of her hair, brushing closely to him, maybe she had been too subtle before. It was a thrilling suggestion.

"Maybe I just need the right teacher." 

"Josephine has instructed many a student, I am sure she will be suitable."

"I'll need a partner." She put forth with a teasing smile and tone to her voice.

Solas was about to answer when a messenger came dashing up the stairs to her side and broke the tension of the moment.

"There's a man at the gate, says he is with a mercenary company and wishes to speak to you."

"Umm, thank you." 

The messenger bowed and turned to leave.

"I see you have duties to attend to, I won't keep you." The mage said, and she knew the opportunity had slipped away.

*****

The lessons were postponed indefinitely while the Herald and her party travelled to the Storm Coast to meet this Iron Bull and his chargers. 

Solas was nothing but polite and professional when in the company of the other companions. And without a chance to get him alone, Maeve determined her flirting was going nowhere.

The Iron Bull returned to Haven with the promise of his band assisting the fledgling organization known as the Inquisition. So far they spent most of their time in the tavern at the card table with Varric, but the dwarf was cheerful enough to have someone else to lose money to for a change. And the Herald was grateful to have someone else to call on, as the breach still loomed in her future.

*****

Josephine wanted to start her tutoring as soon as possible and so first thing the next morning she began with history of the noble houses of Orlais. Maeve was a good student, hard working and focused. They mastered all of the outlined lessons in a manner of days.

"Wonderful! Just wonderful," The Ambassador beamed. "Now, the fun begins! It will be difficult without music and I am no singer, but perhaps if I just clap out a beat you can follow my movements."

The elf nervously nodded, feeling wholly unsure about any of this, but Josephine certainly was the trustworthy type and too polite to laugh out right at her foolishness if she should fall.

"This is a simple waltz, just enough to get your feet wet in the style, so to speak."

The woman stood directly in front of the elf and had her copy the steps as she walked slowly through them, clapping out a rhythm. Maeve stepped on the back of her foot when she lead with the wrong one, and subsequently removed the woman's shoe by mistake.

"No problem," the Antivan smiled while adjusting her heel. "Let's try again. I will mirror you this time."

Maeve copied the steps and was beginning to feel some confidence in her movements when the ambassador kindly reminded her she will at some point need to stop looking at the floor. At which point the elf reared her head up to take a gallant posture, knocked Josephine on the nose with the top of her head, and then lost her footing in the shock of the injury, and swayed dangerously so she nearly pulled the poor woman to the floor.

"I think that is enough for today." Josephine muffled through her hands, still holding her bruised nose.

"I'm really sorry again, Ambassador." She was still apologizing as she backed out of the woman's office and right into the commander.

"Everything alright?" He asked as she jumped forward and off of his toes.

"Oh, um, yes, just a little mishap. Sorry about your boot." She said as she examined the mark her heel had made on his newly polished leather.

"Quite alright." He smiled and rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly.

Josephine stepped out of her office, rubbing her nose and staring after the elf. “We can work on it some more tomorrow.” she cried at the Herald's back before it disappeared through the Chantry door with a wave.

“Are you alright?” The commander asked, taking in the watery eyes of the woman before him.

“Oh, yes, nothing, just a little accident.” She dismissed his concern with a flick of her wrist and returned to her desk.

 

The complete and utter failure at dancing, as she had correctly predicted did nothing to raise the spirits of the hunter. Her prowess with her blades was not from some natural grace, but from a need to survive and rigorus training she began at a young age. They say it is easier to teach a child just about anything than it is to teach an adult. She wasn't sure she wanted to be proving that theory with such ease. With her confidence as it was, she decided she needed to take a break and go hit something. Cassandra would be excellent at facilitating that.

The Seeker could be found outside the gate in the yard with the soldiers on most occasions and she did not disappoint today.

“Cassandra.,” she shouted to be heard over the din of weapons in the yard. “I find myself in need of a sparring partner if you would be so obliging.”

The woman was quite surprised, her eyebrows raised so high they were practically in her hairline. 

“I? Well... yes.”

The pair circled each other, Maeve with her twin daggers, Cassandra with a hand axe and a simple round shield. 

The elf lunged with a grunt of exertion as the seeker caught the blades on her shield. They circled further as the rogue looked for a way to flank, searched for a weakness. She struck again, this time from the side, but again the woman blocked her, with the handle of her axe. There was a sound of metal scraping metal and the two broke apart.

“Holy Shit!” 

Maeve heard Varric's extremely loud exclamation, but refused to look away and let her guard down.

Within minutes the yard was quiet apart from the sounds of the grunting and panting women slashing and parrying at one another, as all other activity seemed to stop and watch them.

Bull chuckled noisily, as he took Varric's bet on the Dalish knocking the Seeker's weapon out of her hand. 

“You're on.”

The pair of women both had some aggression to work out it seemed, as they each became more engrossed in the fight, sweat pouring off of them as they took turns slashing or blocking.

“Yaaah!” Yelled the elf as she leaped to come down on the larger woman, staggering her. While regaining her footing, the smaller of the two took the opportunity to jab at the Seeker's sword hand from the side, drawing blood and forcing her to drop her weapon.

The dwarf leaned to the Qunari and said, “Pay up.”

“It's not over yet. I will raise that bet, Seeker takes the match.”

 

Cassandra took that moment to charge forward and knock the elven woman right over on to her back with all the remaining strength she had. Flying forward with her shield arm locked, she bowled the smaller woman over on to her back, splayed and spent.

“Maybe you should have let me win, you know, for morale and all.” The elf tweaked out through panting breaths as the warrior helped her to her feet and patted her shoulder.

“You drew first blood. I'd say it was a fair match.” Cassandra said through her smile.

“True.”

They turned to the crowd that had now gathered, Cassandra unnerved by all the attention on her, and the elf making a flourished bow as if to say thank you I'm here all week. 

**

Feeling more herself, with a new set of bruised ribs, that is, Maeve returned to her cabin to change and bathe before her scheduled meeting in the war room. She would be feeling the results of her actions for days to come. Maybe Solas knew a soothing spell, she thought to herself. The council couldn't very well start without her if she happened to be a few minutes late.

She knocked gently on his cabin door,“Solas?”

She heard a shuffling of a desk chair being moved across the floor and then he was standing in front of her, so close. She hadn't really noticed his freckles before, they were quite adorable. And that steely blue colour of his eyes, like no other pair she had ever seen before.

“My friend?”

She had been standing there admiring him too long, without saying a thing. His eyes looked away briefly and she realized, blushing a slight hue.

“I, uh, I was hoping you knew a spell to take away some bruises maybe? Or just lessen the damage.”

“Your lessons went that poorly, did they?”

She laughed then, quite suddenly, he had made a joke, at her expense, no less. Maybe he is more receptive to her advances than she had thought. Teasing had always been a good sign with the boys she knew.

“Well, actually, Josephine did get a little bit... I mean, no, I was sparring with Cassandra actually, and my ribs have had better days.”

“I know, Varric was beside himself with delight and came to round up the entire village for the affair. I am a little surprised about the ambassador however.”

“That one was an accident. Maybe you should go heal her next.”

 

He invited her into his quarters with a gesture and then closed the door behind her. She looked around to see only his desk chair and his cot as possible places to sit, so she stood with her arms protectively crossed over her ribs waiting for him to choose one first. He sat on the bed. As she moved to the chair he took her hand and guided her to a spot beside him. The blood was rushing through her ears now as the waves blocked out everything, why was she here again?

“I didn't see you out there for the spectacle before the entire inquisition.”

“I have seen you both in battle, it afforded nothing new to me.” 

“Oh, that makes sense.” There was little more to glean out of him now that he had gone back to blunt and serious, but she was spurred on by the new playful side she had unlocked.

“Let's see to those ribs, shall we?” 

A warming sensation came over her as he placed his hands to hover just above the cloth of her tunic on her side. It wasn't just the healing that caused her to flush, this was by far the most intimate moment they had shared, and she was feeling the tingle of excitement throughout her entire body. The sensation of relief from the ache was enough for her to let out a small moan of pleasure as her tension released and her eyes closed.

Solas's hands moved away quickly as the sound escaped her. He was standing with his back to her, engrossed in something on his desk, by the time she opened her eyes.

“Thank you,” she breathed out.

“I was glad to be of service,” he turned and stepped towards the door with the motion of showing her out, “I suspect your advisors await you.”

“Not as if they can start without me.” She said with a shrug, as she lifted her tunic to inspect the mage's work, exposing her mid section in the process.

“I suppose not, still,” he cleared his throat “I wouldn't want to be the cause of your tardiness. Da'len.”

She stood, slightly taken aback by his words. He had never used that term to describe her before. The language was always open to interpretation by different clans and with different context, but the meaning and his tone came across as she suspect he intended it to. Child. Was that his way of letting her know he wasn't interested? He saw her this way, and he was gently trying to tell her that he wished to be nothing more than a teacher?

“We'll talk later.” She said cooly as she left for the Chantry.

It seemed everyone was talking over each other and a decision had to be made about the mages and the templars. She tried to listen to both sides in turn, but it was all a bit muddled and this enormous choice rested solely on her shoulders it seemed. They moved on to other matters as everyone was exhausted by the discussion and vowed to revisit it tomorrow with a plan of action.

The commander approached Maeve as she went to exit the building, jogging to catch up to her.

“Might I have a word?”

“Of course, Commander, something on your mind?”

He steered her into a darker corner of the Chantry behind a pillar and lowered his voice. She was, to say the least, extremely confused.

“I wanted to see how you are. This strange business with Josephine earlier today, and then with Lady Cassandra in the yard. I can't help but wonder if the stress of the job isn't getting to you. If anyone has been treating you ill, because of your... background?”

“You mean, because I'm an elf? No, everyone has been perfectly fine about it, at least to my face. I'm sure some of the refugees or soldiers have no qualms calling me 'knife-ear' behind my back, but nothing I haven't heard from some Shems before.”

“Good, I mean, not good, but I see you are perfectly capable of handling yourself in that regard. This other business with the council, some tension there. I'm no diplomat but I would be willing to sort out whatever seems to be happening here. Or, whatever you might need, I, that is, you are always welcome to speak to me should you find yourself over burdened.”

She giggled slightly at the idea that Cullen though she had somehow gotten violent with Josephine of all people.

“You got me Commander, my secret is out. I am a terrible dancer,”

His face was contorted as he tried to find a way to connect these pieces together in any way that made sense.

“The Lady Montiyet was kind enough to offer me some lessons on how to deal with the nobility, unfortunately for her, that included teaching me how to dance, and let's just say that I may have not been the best partner.”

Now it was his turn to laugh. It was nice, she hadn't heard him really let go before as his face grew flush from the chuckle he tried to conceal in the quiet of the sanctuary.

Shaking his head slightly, “I am not much for dancing myself. Maybe I should take her up on lessons as well.”

“She is already regretting the one student she has, how much worse can you be?” She grinned up at him, “if she should incur a more serious injury, at least I'll have you to blame.”

She moved off then, sated in this joyful distraction from her worries, before leaning in again quickly as an after thought to reassure him about the Seeker. 

“Oh, and as far as Cassandra goes, that was just us blowing off steam, I'm sure your experience with men in this situation must be similar.”

He felt a little foolish now, seeing things from a different perspective, he still had a lot to learn about women, he thought as he headed back to his post.

**

 

The next lesson was considered a great success by everyone involved, as there was no actual contact between dancers. Josephine, seeing the error of her ways, in starting with such a different form of dance than the elf was accustomed to, chose a reel style for her next lesson. In preparation she had all of the furniture in her office moved as close to the walls as possible. 

It was a strange sight to meet her eyes when mistress Lavallen arrived. As was the presence of the commander, she hadn't thought he would really partake in such a silly thing. Perfect, now I can potentially wound the man, while making myself look ridiculous, she thought. Her face must have expressed some disappointment, as he quickly interjected. 

“Don't worry, My Lady, I am simply the hired muscle, and now that I am no longer needed for moving anything heavy I will take my leave.”

Once both women had thanked the commander and he had taken his leave, the ambassador began her instruction.

“Now, this is a social dance for larger groups, there is no partner per-say, as one moves about in circles, or reels, as they are called, it is really just a lot of walking and a few hops, but very little in way of organized steps.”

***  
Wishing to share her somewhat mild success, Maeve left with some time before her meeting with hopes of a meal and maybe a visit with Solas. Her conviction was somewhat restored, and while the elder elf might have thrown her a little with his words, she was determined not to read too much into it. Over thinking any situation had always been a weakness of hers, and since this strange magic came to be a part of her, her entire life seemed to just be a series of spur of the moment choices, consequences had to be a thing of the past.

Luck was with her as she entered the tavern for a bite, and spied Solas sitting on his own at a table.

“May I?” She asked as she balanced her stew and her ale in her hands.

The mage motioned to her as he closed his book. “Please.”

“I actually had a enlightening lesson today,” she said while trying to blow on her piping hot spoon. “So, it turns out I am only terrible at dancing with a partner.”

“Maybe you just need the right partner.”

She blushed at the suggestion, sure it was obvious as she felt the pink reach even the tips of her ears.

“How is your dancing, Solas?”

“I quite enjoy it, actually. My journeys have allowed me to witness so many forms of dance and music, each one a fascinating display of sex and power.”

She gulped her ale, and coughed a little before regaining her composure attempting to keep her voice casual.

“Sex?”

Bull's shout caught the elves attention before either could say any more on the subject.

“Hey, Boss! You in for a game of Wicked Grace. Varric needs to win back more than a few hands.”

“I leave you to it.” Solas smiled in his polite way and headed to the exit before she could say another word on the matter.

The hunter made a quick excuse to Bull and followed Solas as fast as she could out the door, her meal forgotten. The mage was just stepping into his cabin when she spotted him from the tavern, what did he do, run? She thought. She didn't knock when she reached the door, but simply entered.

The apostate looked up from his desk startled as she stepped inside. “Da'len? Is there some emergency?”

“Please don't call me that.” She tried to keep her tone even, completely unsure of her feelings now. 

“I apologize. I was unaware it troubled you.” He remained seated, clearly confused about the state the rogue was in.

“Is that how you see me, Solas? As a child?” There was a slight pleading in her voice now, despite her efforts to stay calm.

“Do you know the meaning behind your name? Maeve. It is not Elvhen.” He stood now, and she took note of the difference in their heights.

“My mother said it was old, a pretty name that had belonged to someone long ago, but not of The People, I knew that much.”

He stepped closer to her as she stood frozen. His posture and voice had become different. Something she hadn't seen before, something less guarded.

“It is very old, that is true, I met a friendly spirit who helped me discover it's meaning, it is ancient, likely not used in hundreds of years,” He was very close now, his voice almost a whisper as he leaned down to her ear. “It means, 'one who intoxicates.',”

She shivered at the feeling of his warm breath on her neck.

“I can think of no better name for you,” He stepped back into a deep bow and presented a hand to her. 

“Will you dance with me? My Lady.”

She accepted his hand as he pulled her into him, his grip firm and his hand on the small of her back warm through the fabric of her clothing. She placed her head against his chest as he began to sway her gently. There was no music but the sound of his heartbeat to time her rhythm to, allowing it to calm her fears about stepping on his toes or accidentally falling into the fire. Solas guided her by applying pressure to her back and steering her hand as he moved them in an angular pattern and back to the centre where they had started. 

“I believe you are dancing, Lethallan.”

“It seems I will have to bring you along to all of my fancy parties.” She mumbled into his chest with a smile on her lips.

“I can only imagine the scandal at court by your taking the dance floor with an elven apostate, but I appreciate the thought.” 

“Ir eth in mala elgar.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations: Ir eth in mala elgar - (literally) I am safe in your spirit- (I trust you/I am comfortable with you)
> 
> AN: I feel like there could be more to this story, I'm not totally satisfied it is wrapped here, let me know what you think!


	2. Master Herbalists

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lavellan goes to her advisor for a little help with acquiring some herbs...and Solas catches her in a compromising position.

With the war council ended and everyone returning to their daily duties, Maeve steeled her resolve, and swallowed her fears. The embarrassment of having such a simple conversation would just have to yield. She was determined to see her plans through as she caught up to the Spymaster in the hallway to Josephine's office.

“Leliana? May I have a moment of your time? Privately?”

The Ambassador was too far ahead to overhear them and while the Commander briefly turned his head at the sound of her voice, he had always paid her the respect of keeping professional when the situation called for it, and he was never one for gossip. His pace quickened to ensure he was out of earshot.

“Of course, Inquistor.”

The Senechal said no more, entwined her hands gently behind her back and strolled quietly through the office, the main hall, and out into the gardens. The elf followed her lead and said nothing, but kept pace with the woman in anticipation. Her bravery waning with each step. I have faced dragons, I have overcome demons, I have made it through an Orlesian ball. She thought, urging herself forward.

Leliana said nothing until reaching a small abandoned room right off of the garden pathway. The elf had never been through that door before, but now found herself very curious as to what was on the other side of it. 

“You may speak freely now, as you know, anything said in confidence to me shall remain between us.” The former bard said as she bolted the door and turned to face the leader of the Inquisition.

The room was sparse, clearly little more than a place to house the garden tools. There was a layer of soil on the floor and a work bench dotted with planters and pots in all shapes and sizes. It smelled earthy with a hint of florals, a calming scent of wilderness within the confines of the fortress. Maeve looked for a place to sit, and perched on a small stool she withdrew from beneath the bench. 

“I appreciate that. It is a delicate matter I wanted to discuss and I am not sure how to go about broaching the topic. It is... of a personal nature.”

“Does this have anything to do with a certain apostate? You two have become rather close I think?”

Maeve struggled to remain steadfast, crossing her arms in an unconscious effort to guard her feelings.

Of course Leliana would know exactly why she wanted to speak to her. There would have been some gossip, and it is not exactly like the gigantic round room with a perfect view of the rogue's infatuation wouldn't be on display to everyone from above. But just how much did she actually know and how much did she suspect?

“I was hoping you might know of a way to...Well, I know there are ways, even among the Dalish there are ways, but I haven't, personally, I mean, I have done that, but... I've never had to worry about it before, not like I would have to worry about it now, and I was always careful before, but I didn't have to actually talk to the healer about it...”

The one thing Maeve was most grateful for in her advisor was her ability to be unfazed by anything. She had an endless practicality and her way of seeing everything from multiple angles was always a comfort. The woman certainly had her own opinions on how to handle them, but she was intuitive and knew how to put people at ease.

“You want to know about herbs for preventing a child.” There was a smile on her face now, as she rested the back of her hooded head against the stone wall she was leaning on.

“How long have you suspected?” The elf looked up at her with a careful glance, unsure what that smile could mean.

“Long enough,” Her smile grew a little wider as she leaned in to whisper, “The rotunda echos.”

Maeve blushed then, though she knew she had never done anything she considered to be so obvious to anyone watching her from above. There was a comfortableness between her and Solas now, she could flirt, tease him, and come for advice when she needed it. They had an easiness about them while maintaining a careful distance when they were not behind closed doors. She would occasionally stand too close, maybe, or gaze at him a little too long, him oblivious to her presence while working on his murals. It was true that she would find a reason to pass through his space by way of a visit the Commander's office even though she had been at the stables only minutes before, and that likely didn't go unnoticed by anyone watching her.

There had been stolen kisses in the fade and hints that more could happen. She had given him his space and his time to consider and he had not put a stop to her pursuit of him. There had been some not-so-accidental touches between them that sparked a fire inside her. He had shown some interest in returning her feelings, she was never in question of that. They had shared a dance at the Winter Palace, he had held her so close. The heat of his body against hers, the way he had taken her hand. He had kissed her that night, under stars when the guests had retired and the courtyard was empty. She had thought that would be the moment, but since then they had seemed to retreat into the pattern they were in before the ball. It was both wonderful and confusing. 

He would come to her when she invited him to her quarters, always when the halls were quiet and there was little chance of being discovered. They would sit in front of the fire and discuss his journeys or she would tell him of the Dalish and what her childhood was like. They would entwine themselves on the sofa while he read and she overlooked the latest reports. Her head leaned against his chest, listening to his heartbeat quicken depending on how high up his thigh she rested her hand. He would kiss her with voracity, a hunger she returned. But, in the end, he would bid her goodnight and she would let him go, careful never to ask for more than he would give.

When they traveled he would treat her injuries at camp, usually finding a reason to linger in her tent. She was grateful for the excuse to be alone together. Often when the rest of her companions retired from the fire to their own tents, she would find her way to his side and keep him talking for hours about any subject she could think of, usually with his hand in hers. 

There was a passion there, something deeper, she was certain of that, but it was always interrupted, doubted. She wanted more. To touch him, to know him... He seemed to want those things too, as much as he fought against them. She was the Inquisitor, after all, and there was a lot to consider about what that could mean for the future. If there were to be a future at all. Those thoughts were always present in her mind as well. Something she had to fight against when she felt his lips on hers, or his fingers brush a stand of hair from her face. His pragmatic outlook was a perfect balance to her spontaneous nature and she couldn't fault him for that. Maybe he held back for all those reasons that had brought her here and she would see them through. All she wanted was to be prepared, to have to option, should they both desire it.

“I can be very discreet,”

The words broke the elf's thoughts, bringing her back to the dimly lit room and her advisor.

“The Lady Morrigan is a master herbalist, I will acquire a recipe and have something crafted to be delivered covertly to your quarters. She may be a great many things, but even if Morrigan should discover the reasons behind the potion, she would never expose it.”

“So, you're not upset about this?” Maeve asked with a little surprise in her voice.

“I am also a woman, am I not? I know the way the world works.”

“Thank you, for everything.”

“Use it wisely.”

The Spymaster turned with a wink and pulled open the wooden door, allowing a blinding stream sunlight to splash across the Inquisitor's face. Before the elf's eyesight had fully returned the woman was out of view, no doubt headed back to her tower and her agents.

**

The Inquisitor tried to busy herself for the rest of the day, distracted and maybe a little paranoid that somehow people knew what she had been thinking. She knew that was silly. She was a grown woman, why couldn't she think such things? But it was different now, she didn't feel as though she belonged to herself anymore, not truly. She had been forced to become something more. There was no way to separate herself from the Herald, no matter how hard she tried. She was a symbol and that wasn't going away any time soon.

There was much to do: requisitions to see to, reports to read, weapons to be crafted, letters to write, mounts to be inspected, and trading to be done. By the end, she was near exhaustion; all Maeve wanted was a hot bath and the solitude of her quarters.

Upon returning to her room, the Inquisitor found a note card folded on her desk and written in the Spymaster's own hand, from the look of it. Leliana reported back that she was waiting for the shipment of dawn lotus from the Follow Mire and should have the required items within the week. A thought struck Maeve then, hopefully she hadn't seemed overly eager to get her hands on the potion. It wasn't unheard of for Leliana to be dedicated to a task, but she was concerend that her Advisor felt the need to check in so quickly. The elf felt her cheeks redden as she placed the note in the top drawer of her desk.

All of this had simply been an idea before, but now it was actually tangible and she didn't know how to feel about it. The prospect thrilled her but was frightening at the same time. She had never wanted someone the way she wanted him. She had her share of experiences, but no one made her feel the way he did. Maybe his reservations urged her as well, she could admit that to herself. She loved the thrill of chasing him, hunting was her passion, her calling, and in this he certainly indulged her. 

He had told her he loved her. So there was no mystery there. He wanted her, that was also clear. She could feel it in his kiss, he desired her. Solas made her feel as though she could do anything, that nothing was beyond her grasp, made her feel herself in a way she hadn't seen before. He was her champion when she was overwhelmed by the challenges of the Inquisition, and he kept her grounded as Maeve when she needed it most. 

He did everything with such a focused intensity, from fighting, to painting, to kissing. She wondered if his passion transferred to the bedroom as well. The idea of his body pressed against hers, the way it had been when they had danced. The idea of his lips on hers when he pulled her close to capture them in his mouth... taking a few steps forward, she sat on the edge of the bed and let her mind wander.

Stretching out with her arms over her head, imagining all the kisses they had shared, she closed her eyes. Her hands clenched and un-clenched as she allowed her thoughts to press more closely to the surface. Slowly they followed the curves of her body, one stopping to rest over her heart while the other found it's way down to where her legs met. Parting her thighs slightly, she began to stroke slowly through her leggings while her other hand opened the clasps on her tunic. The cool mountain air from her open windows played across her skin, causing her already aroused nipples to harden further. 

She could imagine his hands now, playing over her flesh. He had such strong hands, but careful enough to be delicate when he needed them to be, as they would be now, she thought. Yes, his hands would tease her breasts, tracing circles around the buds before rolling his thumb and fingers over them, causing her breath to hitch as it did now.

He would quickly do away with the lacing of her leggings, reaching his hand between her thighs and parting her lips gently, to search for the spot that would make her moan his name. He would curl his finger, enjoying the slippery wetness of her desire, while he kissed her neck, and nipped her earlobe; whispering all the ways he wanted to pleasure her. 

He would kiss his way down her body, teasing her with a look in his eye as he moved closer to the end of the bed, at last kneeling on the floor before her. His face level with her sex, a hunger of anticipation on his face. She bit her lip, moving her hand more insistently now, desperate to keep the image of him in her mind as she worked herself to climax. His tongue... his hands... she was almost there... 

She felt her body contract and her hips lift off the bed as her breathing came in short rapid bursts, Solas's name in each one, culminating in a delighted sigh. Then a sudden laugh escaped her, her delight at the thought that she had just just done that for the first time in far too long. Remembering herself as a much younger woman who had explored her body freely as she felt the desire come upon her, she lay there, lost in the moment, enjoying the after effects of letting herself enjoy the idea of him.

The center stone on the third step was loose and it created a scraping sound when pressure was applied, a sound that welcomed her whenever she bounded up the stairs to her quarters after being away for so long. She had come to expect that noise from her own foot, but how strange it would make that sound now, she thought. 

Suddenly realizing she was not alone, her thoughts screamed at her, she hadn't locked the door, it's not as if she planned this sudden moment of lust, (well maybe you should just get in the habit of locking the door all the time), yes well I'll try to remember that next time I decide to pleasure myself on a whim, she argued back at herself. Springing upright on her bed, struggling to put her clothes back in order, missing the closures on her tunic from properly lining up and desperate to get to her feet as quickly as possible before whoever it was could get to the top stair and see the state of her.

“Vhenan?,”

He said, rounding the railing and staring at her from beside the sofa. “I apologize. I did knock, ” His eyes searched desperately for somewhere else to look while she tried to make herself presentable. “Leliana sent me to fetch you to dinner, something about you keeping your strength up. I will just...”

“I... I was just changing my clothes,” She sputtered out quickly as he turned his back to leave. “and, uh, I didn't hear your knock.”

He turned again to face her now, a barely contained smile on his lips.“Do you often call out my name, while changing your clothes, Inquisitor?” 

“Every. Single. Time.” She said, a grin now spreading across her own face, doing nothing to mask the pink embarrassment still fresh on her cheeks.

“I shall bear that in mind.” He said, truly teasing her now.

“Please do.” 

It was his turn to blush. The slight hue on his cheeks accentuated his freckles, which were always more prevalent after a few days in the sun.“I will see you later then,” he said as he descended the stairs and disappeared from sight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I will write a follow up to this, but it is a bit of a different source of inspiration so it will be in the next "Perk."


	3. Rider's Posture

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lavellan is trying to improve her riding, Solas gets to experience what she has learned.

Working with horses was not something the Inquisitor had ever done before. Sure, the elves of her clan had animals in their care and knew a great deal about those in the wild, especially the hunters like her, but saddles and tack were all new to her. Cullen had told her she was a natural horsewoman and had picked up the skills to basic riding almost from the start, but her chances of being unseated by an enemy were still quite high. Under the eye of the Commander and Master Dennet, she was improving steadily every day.

Her legs were less sore after every ride and she could endure longer in the saddle with each lesson. She had a better sense of balance and had learned to charge on horseback now. Her mount would respond to her requests easier and she felt she had a stronger report with the animals than when she had started. Blackwall offered some advice he had learned from a Chevalier as well, and soon the three men were discussing more complicated methods to teach her, without actually speaking directly to her.

“Well, I think that's enough for today,” She was saying as she climbed down from the Folder she had been working with. “I'll see you gentlemen later.”

They were all three, staring at her, realizing how unhelpful they had become. She lead the animal back to it's stall as a stable hand came to relieve her and undress the horse for a good brushing and some oats. Each of the men looked sheepish as the conversation died on their lips. She swung her jacket over her shoulder and nodded to the group as she departed. 

“Right.” said the Commander's voice as if to dismiss the group.

Blackwall cleared his throat and retreated into the barn, as Master Dennet just shrugged his shoulders and returned to his work.

It was the kind of day to be out of doors, the elf thought to herself, as she made her way towards the kitchens. The room was empty, as she had hoped it would be. Grabbing an empty sac, and stuffing a loaf of bread, a wheel of cheese, two small metal cups, and a jar of preserves in, she made her way to the wine cellar to choose just the right bottle before adding it to her loot. 

Solas was engrossed in something and leaning over his desk when she walked into the rotunda. Moving closer, she saw it was the sketches he had plotted out for the next section of frescoes he was working on. His furrowed brow melted away to a smile when he saw her and she grinned back.

“I could use some company, if you are free.” She held up the bag in one hand and the bottle in the other.

**

The grove was small, but secluded. No one bothered her here, though she suspected that was more due to the hidden entrance than to her rights to privacy when this close to Skyhold. She had stumbled upon it when gathering herbs one afternoon when she needed to quiet her mind and escape the din of men training in the yard, and the stacks of reports on her desk. The canopy cast a blue hue over the ground, filtering the bright sunlight just enough to make it seem like something out of a dream. She guided Solas through the brush and into the clearing.

“It's beautiful.” He said.

“I knew you would understand.” Maeve replied, taking his hand to guide him to a soft spot of thick clover and setting out their small meal.

They talked as they ate, drinking their wine and discussing everything except the Inquisition. Solas spoke of the fade and the spirits he had met, stories he had heard, and ruins he had visited. Maeve talked about her training as a hunter, the travels with her clan, and the memories she had of her family. 

She reclined against a tree trunk and finished the last of the wine with a handful of berries she had picked. Her bare feet patting the ground gently, happy to be free of her nearby boots. Letting a deep breath fill her lungs she could feel her body relax in what felt like the first time in a long time as her eyes closed briefly. When she opened them Solas was watching her with parted lips and a tint to his cheeks.

“So, you've been working with the Commander to improve your riding?” 

His question an obvious attempt at shattering the intimate atmosphere and bringing her attention back to the Inquisition. His body had changed with the remark as well, where he had been slouched, his back was now rigid, and his face returned to the polite mask he wore when among strangers. 

“I'd love to show you what I've learned.” She said, pulling herself up on to all fours crawling a little closer to the mage, her voice taking on a seductive tone. 

Solas seemed to consider the idea with each prospect warring over his face in an instant, turning his head to the side to avoid her eye when it seemed his better judgment had won out.

That was when she leaned in further, depositing a kiss so soft it was barely a brush of her lips against the thin flesh of his neck. 

“Show me.” 

He answered as his lips found hers and his hands moved to grasp the back of her neck, pulling her closer.

Placing her hand on his chest, never letting his lips free of hers, she pressed her palm into him until he responded and lay back. His kisses were deliberate, careful, but filled with passion; they were thoughtful, as though he were tasting something he wished to savour every moment of. His tongue traced her lips, causing her to moan into his mouth as her legs came across to straddle him.

Breaking away, she tugged at his belt, desperate to free him from his shirt. Forcing it over his head and marveling at the smoothness and warmth of his skin. Unfastening her tunic and removing her bindings with haste, she dove back in to feel his mouth on hers again. His hands ran down her scarred back, tracing the shapes his fingers found there. 

She nipped at his ear lobe, enjoying the subtle hiss he let out when she did. Her hand reached down between them to find his hardness through his laces. Solas's fingers slipped lower until his hands were planted firmly, grasping her backside. Nimbly she worked to release the knots preventing her from getting to him, while covering his jawline with kisses. 

With the remaining obstacle removed, she grasped his erection, a satisfied smile spreading across her face. The smooth skin felt like velvet in her hand as she stroked him, passing her thumb across the tip, knowing her touch was the cause of the slickness she found there. Shimmying herself out of her leggings with her free hand and the assistance of her lover she tossed them aside without a care. 

Climbing atop him again, she cleared her throat, sat a little taller than before, and regained her focus. With a sly smile she began to tease him, rubbing her wetness against him in slow strokes. He was reaching for her, to bring her back to him, to connect to her mouth to his once more.

“I said I was going to show you what I've learned, and I mean to,” the elf woman said as she lifted herself to position him at her entrance.

“Using your thighs to hold tightly on your mount is very important.”

She said as she positioned him at her entrance, rubbing his head against the bundle of nerves that caused her breath to catch in anticipation. She had waited so long for this moment. Plunging herself downward, taking him in all at once, as he lurched with desire. He slid into her with a sigh as she squeezed his hips with her legs and began to move. His hands finding her bare ass again, firm and smooth, her muscles tightening with the exertion.

“Your back should remain straight and your balance steady as you allow yourself to move with the rhythm of the ride.”

Her body began to rock then, lifting and lowering herself as if a wave flowed through her. Solas's knees came up behind her, bent to support her ride and she smiled down at him, taking her lower lip between her teeth in an attempt to keep control. His hands, still cupping her ass, were now gliding around to her legs, gently caressing their way to her inner thigh towards her center. His thumb began working in small circles over her bud, as she began to buck into his hand.

Her speed increased as she rode harder, arching her back and letting her head fall back. He was watching her with wonder, seeing her like this, knowing he could give her this confidence and pleasure was almost enough to send him to his peak. 

“Take control of your mount, and be firm in your instructions.” She huffed out.

Her breath coming in pants now, her hand reaching for the leather cord that held Solas's jawbone pendent, tugging it forcefully. The mage responded as she knew he would, his face now even with her chest, the rest of him pinned between her legs. She thrust herself forward pulling the cord closer so she could feel his breath on her naked breasts.

His tongue darted out to flick her hardened nipple eliciting a moan from her that formed his name. Taking her nipple into his mouth, he sucked and teased it with his tongue, he felt it between his teeth as he nipped softly. Her grip never loosening on the cord, she rode harder and faster while he worshiped her breasts with his mouth until she was shouting “yes,” and shuddering on top of him. 

He felt her clench once again and he knew it was all he could take. Finally allowing himself the release he craved when she arched her back and thrust her pelvis hard into him. Solas's strained voice cried out in a string of syllables without meaning as the pleasure washed over him. She slowed her movements to a steady pace again, milking him with what little stamina she had left, coming down from the height of her climax. 

Both breathless now, his head cradled against her chest; her legs snaking around him to pull him closer with her ankles crossing behind his back.

“Ar lath ma.” She whispered, suddenly realizing she had never said it before.

“And I you, vhenan.” 

She could feel his seldom smile against her skin, the smile that was wider than those he had ever given in public. Taking his face in her hands, she placed a soft kiss on his forehead.

“You are a good student.” He chuckled. His hands moving to hold her wrists as he looked up at her.

Holding his gaze with a laugh on her lips,“You are a good mount,” she giggled.


	4. Friends in High Places

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Solas and Lavellan get to know each other better while he works on the mural in her quarters after their arrival at Skyhold.

He had been spending a lot of time in her quarters lately, just not for the reasons she had been hoping to have him alone in her rooms. It was very kind of him to paint the mural. She knew it helped him relax and process everything that happened since Haven, as well as the constant closing of rifts and fighting what could feel like endless battles. Maeve could appreciate that side of things, needing something to escape into. A part of her hoped it was also, at least unconsciously, his desire to be near her as well.

Her favourite thing about it though, wasn't just seeing it come together from a sketch he had planned out, to actual colour on the wall, but watching him do it. She wondered if he realized that he hummed while he worked, and sometimes when he was really concentrating his tongue would slip out the corner of his mouth and his brows would knit together. Often he was so engrossed in what he was doing he wouldn't notice her watching him. She felt a sort of excitement in seeing him when he thought he was all alone. Other times she would sit on her sofa, legs curled up under her and a book in her hand while he worked, she would occasionally glance up to take in the view of his backside, which she was conveniently at a perfect angle to inspect thoroughly. He had offered to teach her his methods, but she had her own ways to relax. 

They had been spending a lot more time together since coming to Skyhold. There was a much more serious threat since Haven, but also a slowed pace to their lives as everyone worked to repair the fortress and dealt with the new beginning they had been given within it's walls. Solas had become more than a flirtation, though he had told her they should be cautious and that he still needed time. 

His visits to her rooms began as a mural, but grew to a friendship she didn't expect. When they were alone, Solas was less guarded and softer somehow. He would make small gestures that bridged them towards something closer. Tiny acts of intimacy. Brushing one of her stray hairs from her forehead, or resting a hand on hers when she needed comfort. He distracted her from the onslaught of responsibilities and doubts about her abilities by simply by telling her stories and asking her about herself. There was no awkwardness to their silences, just pleasant lulls in conversation between topics. Maeve was anxious to get back to her quarters at all hours of the day in hopes of catching these moments before her travels took them.

The Inquisitor was disappointed to find the loft above her bed empty one day when she had already been through the rotunda looking for Solas. It was getting dark and they would likely take supper together that evening so she didn't trouble herself, as she supposed he was somewhere about the grounds. Contented she would see him sooner or later, she began her routine as usual whenever she had some alone time.

Privacy was something Maeve had very little of with her clan and she had come to cherish it since her arrival at Skyhold. There was comfort in having other bodies near you while you slept, the soft sounds of your family breathing in the dark, and the safety you felt as a child being surrounded by your loved ones. But, having a place all her own, with a real mattress, and sheets made of fabrics she had never dreamed of... Owning something so luxurious, to let it touch her body. To spread her limbs wide across the expanse of a real bed just for her... there was no going back to a cramped caravan or tent again.

Often her first act upon reaching her room was to rid herself of her clothing. Shedding all the material and brushing the tangles from her silvery hair, she enjoyed the freedom to feel the fresh mountain air on her naked skin. The sun was almost fully obscured by the mountains now, leaving a dusty pink sky with it's departure. She would have to light a fire soon, she thought to herself, as she began tidying up her desk in preparation of completing the requisitions she had been putting off for too long. Maeve had never owned so many things before and she found keeping her work space neat was not a virtue that came naturally to her. A small slip of her hand tipped her ink well just enough to warrant a rag, which she went to retrieve from the supply closet to the left of her bed.

The sensation of falling caught her off guard. One moment she was upright and suddenly, as though the floor had reached out and grabbed her ankle, she was sprawled out on top of something surprisingly warm, and lumpy. Something that didn't feel at all like the stone she would have expected to land on had she made it to the floor. Then she recognized the familiar feel of wool and the scent of plaster and paint. As the pieces began to come together in Maeve's mind, the groan of a sleeper reluctant to wake made her fully comprehend just what had happened and why she had been unable to find Solas during her search.

The laughter bubbled in her first with tiny giggles and then an uncontrollable fit that left her red faced and quaking with big silent chuckles. Solas was coming around now, and as she laughed she slid her body so she could sit next to his curled up form, her arm lazily placed over his side. 

“Maeve?” His voice dry and confused. “I'm sorry, I must have...” 

He moved his hand to grasp hers, where it rested on his waist and waited for his eyes to adjust to the fading light.

“For future naps, might I suggest the bed? It would probably lead to less injuries.” 

She chuckled under her breath as she squeezed his hand gently with her own.

“Well, that depends on if you intend to join me next time. I couldn't very well climb into your bed uninvited.”

It was obvious Solas's eyes had fully adjusted to the darkness. 

“You might have waited for me at least.” Her tone matched the teasing in his voice.

He moved to sit and then regain his legs under him, rising to his feet. She mirrored his movements to stand facing him. 

“If I had known I would find you like this, I just may have.”

She blushed slightly, grateful for the darkness to hide both her flush and the finer details of her body's response to the suggestion. A sudden boldness and tenderness had her reaching for him. Her right hand floated between them as they stood there considering each other, both unsure of what they should do. Maeve's desire won out as her palm connected to cup the softness of Solas's cheek, her fingers caressing his earlobe with small passes in a rhythm that matched her unsteady breathing.

Bringing his hand up to cover hers, Solas closed his eyes and breathed her name in a sigh. He turned his head just enough to place a kiss in her palm before folding it in his own hand and bringing it to rest on his chest. 

“Vhenan,” he began, as he took a single step towards her. “I will see you tomorrow.” He finished quickly failing to meet her eye as he released her hand a stalked from the room.

"Tomorrow." She said to the empty room feeling the cold seep in with the darkness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was a lot shorter than my other chapters so far here, but I am working on 2 others right now as well. Not my finest title match, but it was this or something way out there... we can pretend this is about the loft ok?


	5. Antivan Tailoring

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Maeve gets talked into some fashion changes- Solas greatly approves. These are not in any sequential order, so read as you like as far as a time line.

The Dalish were a practical people. There was little by way of luxury when you might have to move your entire home in a great distance and with little notice. They had their sacred items that were cherished as any other people had, but by living off the land and by trading what they could, life didn't afford for anything much beyond it's worth by way of usefulness. As it were, clothing was crafted and repaired as needed, made from what was available and viable. As a hunter; leathers, wools, and other sturdy fabrics were used to make Maeve's clothing and armor. Her finery was limited to buttons or other adornments her clan could purchase, salvage, or carve. She had never taken to the careful work of embroidery, and so her attire remained simple but effective. 

This was something entirely different.

“I don't know about this, Josephine.”

“Nonsense, darling, it's stunning.” Vivienne cooed.

“I've never owned anything like this, I feel strange.”

The Inquisitor tugged at her underarm where the bodice was digging into her. There was no question it was beautiful, and the sensation of the fabric on her skin was heavenly, but the fit was very constrictive.

“It may take some getting used to,” The Antivan woman told her, tilting the mirror “but look at the back, the craftsmanship.”

The elf turned around, looking at the reflection over her shoulder. The ribbons that crisscrossed her back in an X shape did make her shoulders look elegant, and the gold threads that were so delicately hand stitched into a charming pattern of foliage that reflected her heritage were magnificent, but there was something so foreign in wearing a garment like this.

“How will I fight in this?”

“You don't. It's a dress.” Madame Le Fer was losing her patience, the Inquisitor thought.

“I've never owned a dress. In fact, I don't think I've ever even worn a dress before now.”

“Never?” Both voices chorused at her in anguish.

Maeve thought the poor Ambassador's eyebrows were going to permanently be stuck in a raised position to match the surprise in her voice, and Vivienne was looking at her with a renewed sense of pity.

“Well, I suppose when I was a babe in arms, or very small I might have had a simple shift to wear, not one I remember, but that isn't quite the same as this. Remind me again, why I need this?”

“We will be hosting dignitaries and other important guests, we can't have you walking around in those...pajamas.” The court enchanter gestured to Maeve's usual outfit of beige leggings and a tunic that were laid out on her bed. “You have an image to uphold, a sense of style to project. You need to dress for your station. Speaking of which, we should make a trip to Val Royeaux to look into some new furnishings and drapery.”  
“How about I just let you and Josephine hash out the details and the budget, and you two can decide on the decor for the main hall?”

“That sounds very wise, Inquisitor,” Josephine said, scratching her quill on paper. “I will schedule a final fitting with the tailor to address your concerns with the bodice when you next return to Skyhold.”

“Thank you. Now, who is going to get me out of this thing?”

**

Josephine had come through, and the dress was now ready to dazzle foreign heads of state, or some such thing she had told the Inquisitor it was for. It seemed Vivienne had known what she was talking about when choosing the fabric, it really was the perfect shade of purple for her. The bodice wasn't cutting into her armpit anymore and her breasts looked magnificent with the draped neckline that made her neck appear long and lean. Taking the time to braid the side sections of her hair and then tuck them up into a knot at the back added to the effect, and she was pleased with the look over all. 

There was a dinner for the guests and her advisors, much to the annoyance of Commander Cullen, who, while extremely charming in his way, had no taste for small talk with nobles. Leliana delighted in having an occasion for a new pair of shoes and to do a little eavesdropping in the halls. While Josephine was most excited to regale the successes of the Winter Palace ball and how well the Inquisitor had done there. 

The entire evening was tiresome. Maeve was seated next to a Duke who was easily old enough to be her grandsire and wanted only to discuss the rising prices of wine and what the Inquisition planned to do about the disruption of trade routes and production due to poor crops. As if somehow she were personally responsible for the weather and soil conditions in Orlais. Naturally, she politely agreed to have someone investigate the situation, as “something must be done” about it. Cullen sat directly across from her and ate his meal, nodding his head occasionally and making “hmm” and “uh huh” sounds whenever someone spoke to him directly. He was enjoying the company as much as she was, only she was better at hiding it.

When the dishes were cleared and guests began to retire to their rooms, Maeve bowed when required, took a hand when it was offered, and bid everyone goodnight. Once she found herself alone she headed straight out the front door and across the yard to the tavern.

Entering to find every one of her companions, apart from Vivienne (who wouldn't be caught dead in such a place) seated around the room. Cassandra was standing at the bar talking strategy with Michel de Chevin, Solas was reading at a table so far in the back she almost didn't see him, and Varric it seemed, had invited Bull, Dorian, Blackwall, Sera, Cole, and Krem to a game of cards at the largest table by the door, while the other Chargers were spread around the tavern keeping to themselves. All of them looked up as she walked with purpose past the players table and straight to the bar.

“Whoa, Boss, you look like a woman.”

Bull seemed to have voiced the thoughts of the entire room and suddenly she was aware of how overdressed she was, and just how many people were present to see it.

“Thanks for noticing, Bull.” Her tone playful in reply.

“Anytime, Boss,” He chuckled and raised his mug to her. “Join us in a drink?” 

“You couldn't stop me if you tried.” she replied, as she turned to Cabot “Anything but wine,” she told him.

Cassandra nodded, “Inquisitor, you are looking quite, well, I hope you enjoy it more than I ever did. My uncle always tried to get me to dress as a proper lady. It suits you well enough.”

“Thanks, it has it's perks.” She couldn't help but notice the sudden attention her bosom had caught from the disgraced chevalier and she understood the game a bit better now.

Dorian rose from the table to take her in, lifting her arms and making a careful study of the dress she wore. “Ravishing, though I do wish you would have let me help, the right shade of green really would have made your eyes pop. I suppose it couldn't be in the Tevinter style, but then again I'm not sure how you feel about exposed skin.” 

“Mostly I just pointed at swatches and sketches until Josie and Vivienne agreed. You can do the next one.”

“Don't tease me,” he said, regaining his seat next to The Iron Bull.

“Lookit you now, all fancy curtsies and stuff. Don't go turning into one of those knobheads.” Sera said, her words getting lost in a belch and followed with a series of giggles.

“Not possible,” Maeve said, taking a gulp of her drink and pulling up a chair next to the elf before directing her attention to Varric, “Deal me in.”

“I'm not sure this is a game for a fine lady such as yourself,” The dwarf smiled at her, that twinkle in his eye he reserved especially for teasing her in moments such as this. “Wouldn't want you to lose your shirt, so to speak.” His hand gesturing towards her apparel in a sweeping motion.

“How kind of you, good sir, to worry about little ol' me.” She said dramatically and they both laughed.

“Ok, ok, the buy in is 10 silvers.”

They played more than a few hands, while the Inquisitor did impressions of each of the guests she had been dining with that evening, all the while clearing out the coffers of her companions. Drinks were plentiful, it was the least she could do, after taking all of their coin. The other patrons of the Herald's Rest retired, and many of the lights were put out as the staff tried to usher the party along. Soon it was clear they would have to get some sleep themselves; gathering up what remained of their winnings and finishing the dregs of their goblets, they disbanded. Krem stretched and excused himself, Blackwall began helping Sera to her room, as the stairs had become quite tricky for her all of a sudden. Bull and Dorian were making heart eyes at each other, thinking no one would notice as they headed off in the same direction towards the Qunari's room, and Cole seemed to mysteriously vanish from his place near the fire.

Solas was still lurking in the corner with his book spread in front of him and a single candle to read by when the rest of the room had fully cleared. Stalking over to him, Maeve enjoyed the feel of the silky fabric against her bare thighs.

“You didn't want to join us? Blackwall tells me you are quite good at cards.”

“I'm good at many games, but tonight I preferred to watch.” He blew out the flame before him, leaving them in the dim light of the few lanterns Cabot kept lit for the small party when he left for the night. 

“Oh? And what did you see?” She leaned over the table, putting her elbows on the surface and her nose so close it almost touched his.

“A beautiful woman enjoying herself, a beautiful woman charming everyone around her, a beautiful woman who has a power she doesn't know about.” He licked his lips, before glancing at hers.

“She sounds like quite a force to be reckoned with.” Her voice just above a whisper.

Solas growled then, low in his throat.

Her tongue flicked out to lick the slit of his lips, quickly and playfully, before returning behind her smile. They had shared much, but this was a new game, and she liked it. Maybe it was wrong to encourage his affection in a place they could be discovered so easily, but something about that thrilled her too.

Solas answered her with his hands tangled in her hair and his mouth covering hers. His lips were full and soft, his breath warm and slightly sweet from the liquor he had been drinking. His tongue was delicate as it touched hers. She leaned closer to him, nearly laying across the table now, her arms circling his neck, urging him on. His kisses became more intense, as small sounds escaped him, giving clues to his hunger. Solas's hands moved to her shoulders to break them apart so he could speak.

“Vhenan,” his voice had an edge of pleading to it as he unhooked her arms from his neck and slowly stood above her.

Maeve sat back on the edge of the table, enjoying the image of him like this, clothing slightly rumpled, skin flush with excitement, and his obvious arousal that the fabric of his leggings did nothing to hide. Feeling emboldened by the events of the evening, she reached out and stroked his hardness, watching his reaction through her lashes. His breath seemed to catch and then his eyes closed as her hand began to move. She saw his shoulders relax as his prefect posture vanished and he hunched forward as though he was finally relieved of a heavy burden; hands moving to brace himself against the table. His eyes closed with a quiet moan.

She stood to meet him then, her hand still teasing through his clothes. Using her toes to gain the inches needed, she placed a gentle kiss on his forehead.

The mage's eyes opened, “Vhenan,” a touch of sadness mixed with his desire this time.

“You already said that.” She whispered in reply, her hand moving to free him from his laces. And she could feel his flesh then, in her hand. Firm but also velvety to the touch and she was acutely aware of how rough her hands must feel.

Solas's fingers wrapped around her wrists, putting them back at her sides. “No Ma Lath,”

“I want this, Solas.” Her kisses capturing his mouth again before he could convince her otherwise. But his strong arms held her hands away from their target. She slithered in his grip, placing urgent kisses all over his face and down his neck.

“Not tonight, not here,” he hissed.

She stopped then, straightened up, prepared to tell herself it was the drink that made her so reckless. But then he freed her from his grip. Rapidly he moved, pulling the hem of her skirts up, running his fingers along her thighs as he crumpled the silk over his wrists, “tonight I want something else.”

His breath was warm on her thigh as he teased her with a mixture of gentle nips and barely there kisses. Her entire body was tensed at the idea that someone might discover them, but a flick of Solas's tongue forced the sigh from her lungs as her head rolled back over her shoulders. Allowing her hand to trail down her neck and across her breast as Solas pressed his mouth deeper, pushing her back to rest against the table.

Maeve was compelled to watch him, and as if he he could feel her eyes on him, he met her gaze while his tongue drew a circles around her lips. He was slow and deliberate in his movements. One hand came to grip her behind firmly as the other stroked the crook where her hip met her thigh, sending shivers through her leg. She needed him closer, in every way, as though compelled by magic Maeve reached out to hold the back of his head. 

His scalp was so soft, she let her hands run across the surface and down the sides of his neck. Her moans must have been carried up to the loft by now, but she didn't care. Solas recognized her urgency, and gliding one of his long fingers into her while sucking at her bud her control finally melted away. All she wanted was to touch him. Softly forming her hands around his ears and stroking up and down with each motion of his finger she thought she heard him whimper. 

“Solas,” she breathed “oh, fuck.” She panted, trying to keep the volume down but knowing she was too far gone to really care.

Her grip tightened as his hand moved faster, his mouth never stopping. Maeve swallowed hard to keep herself from shouting all the curse words she knew as her release came hard and fast. Holding her lip between her teeth as she worked her breathing back to normal and let her hands relax to rest on Solas's shoulders. 

His eyes, heavy with lust, met hers from his position kneeling before her. She knew he would have gladly kept going for as long as she would let him, but she didn't think she could handle her volume levels any longer. Following his shoulders down to grip his wrists she lowered herself to kneel in front of him. The scent of her desire still fresh on his lips, confusion clouding his face, Maeve reached out to cup his face in her hands.

“I guess that means I won this round.” She teased with a peck on his cheek.

“I hope your prize was satisfactory.” The familiar glint in his eye was back, the one that let her know he enjoyed her challenging him.

“Best two out of three?” She said, reaching again for his laces and the firmness they contained.  
“Next time, Vhenan.”

He held her then, pulling her in and stroking her back with his fingertips, as her arms circled his waist and rested comfortably on his hips. The weight of the day returned to her as she sunk into him with a sigh. She didn't know how long they stayed that way, kneeling into each other on the floor of the darkened tavern, billows of wrinkled silk around them. At last Solas shifted his weight and returned to his feet. 

Taking her hands in his, he helped her to regain her feet before sweeping her legs under his arm.

“Put your arm about my neck, Vhenan.”

Maeve complied, resting her head in close to Solas's neck as he carried her back to her rooms, depositing her outside her bedroom door.

“I definitely won.” She whispered through her smile.

“Best two out of three.” He reminded her as he kissed her goodnight, turning to around just before he reached the end of the hall.

“Besides, you cheat,” He said, matter-of-factly. “No one stands a chance with you in that dress.”


End file.
